


Everyone Prefers Tea Anyway

by stillscape



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillscape/pseuds/stillscape
Summary: Loosely inspired by the plot ofThe Avengers. Coffee shop AU. High school AU. Some romance is implied.





	Everyone Prefers Tea Anyway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stars_inthe_sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_inthe_sky/gifts).



> And when push comes to shove,  
> I will write for all your favorite fandoms  
> To remind you of my love
> 
> (also thanks to Captain Amberica and #this is diaphenia's fault)

***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Natasha, when she picked up the phone. It was her boss. He always called at the most inopportune times--like now, when she was in the middle of wrestling practice.

Technically speaking, students weren’t supposed to even have phones at wrestling practice, but somehow none of the coaches ever bothered Natasha about it. Technically speaking, Natasha probably shouldn’t have picked up the phone while she was in the middle of actually wrestling her teammate, but she had, and she was still winning the practice match, so everyone was just going to have to deal with it.

“I am not kidding,” said Mr. Fury. “I need you to work this weekend. I need all hands on deck this Saturday. I need you to—”

“Okay.” There was no point in arguing. Besides, Natasha liked her job, usually.

Not bothering to put her phone back in her black singlet, she quickly pinned her opponent to the mat, then popped to her feet.

“Until next time,” she said to her opponent. He grunted, feebly.

She wasn’t sweaty enough to need a shower, so she slid into her jeans and leather jacket, and headed towards the chemistry lab.

Once here, she pushed open the door, and saw exactly what she’d been expecting.

“Hey.”

Bruce looked up from his test tube.

“Hey, Natasha.”

She inclined her chin at the experiment, and Bruce slid off his stool, shrugging slightly.

“It’s a work in progress.”

“You’re in here all the time.”

“Well, yeah.” 

“You already have, like, eight scholarships to MIT.”

Bruce sighed. “That’s not really the point.”

“Well, wrap it up,” she told him. “Mr. Fury needs us.”

At this, Bruce blanched. “You know I don’t work there anymore.”

She shrugged. “He said he needed you.” When this elicited no response, she added, “You do the best pour-overs,” and then, quietly, “Do you really want the hipster place to win?”

_That_ , at least, inspired Bruce to stand up and start shoving his notes into his raggedy purple backpack.

“Fine,” he groaned. “But I’m _not_ working customer service.”

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

***

They all stood, assembled, in their Shield Coffee Company aprons, as Mr. Fury began his pep talk.

“It’s going to be a busy weekend,” he said. “The annual Taste of the Town Festival means increased foot traffic. It also means this is the last weekend to earn the public’s votes. And I need hardly remind you of the prestige associated with winning the ‘Favorite Local Coffee Shop’ award—”

“Question,” interrupted Tony. “Where’s Clint? We need him to do--you know what? I’m not entirely sure what it is that he does. Little people things. Sweeping. Putting whipped cream on the tops of the frappes. Does he do that?”

Mr. Fury’s lips pressed together momentarily. “Mr. Barton has, I’m afraid, abandoned us.”

“Don’t tell me he’s working for--”

“He’s working for Tesseract Roasters,” said Maria.

Tony gasped. The gasp was half, or maybe three-quarters, fake. Natasha glared at him. Steve knitted his brows together. Bruce didn’t react at all, and Thor merely looked politely concerned.

Bucky, of course, said nothing. But then, she deliberately wasn’t noticing Bucky. At _all_. 

“Also,” added Mr. Fury, as though it was almost an afterthought, “someone stole our best espresso machine.”

“We did notice the smashed-in front window,” said Tony.

“It’s a real all-hands-on-deck situation,” piped up Phil, whom Natasha had noticed earlier, but chosen not to acknowledge at the time. She should be nicer to him, she knew. He actually _liked_ working the register.

Natasha, prepared to come out with some version of _Well, Phil, you’re not the one making the drinks,_ but Steve opened his mouth first.

“But that’s not a big deal, right?”

Everyone stared at him.

“We can win Taste of the Town with our good old-fashioned medium roast drip.” He gestured over at the regular old coffee pots. The regular ancient coffee pots. “We’ll just scrub these babies up with a little elbow grease tonight, and in the morning--”

“Oh, Steve,” sighed Tony. “You beautiful, naive, sophisticated newborn baby.”

***

Steve prided himself on being both an early riser and a team player, so he felt conflicting impulses when he cycled into the employee parking area around 4:30 the next morning and discovered the lights were already on. Reminding himself that “team player” was, in this case, more important than his ability to get the drip brewer spotless before anyone else showed up, he squashed down the annoyance for exactly as long as it took to chain up his bike. He would’ve kept the annoyance squashed down for longer, but something immediately hit him in the back of the head. He whirled around and saw a drone bearing a cup of coffee right at eye level.

“Oops! Sorry, Cap,” said Tony’s disembodied voice. “Hope I didn’t spill on you.”

Steve tried not to let himself suspect that Tony had flown the drone into the back of his head on purpose. He resolved to ignore the coffee.

“It’s drip, just the way you like it. Black and Folger-y. None of this fancy espresso garbage.”

Ignoring this too, Steve unclipped the duffle bag with his change of clothes from the back of his bike and began walking towards the employee entrance. The drone followed, darting in circles around his head like an oversized hummingbird.

“Though I do think you would _like_ some of my creations, if you’d just give them a shot.”

Steve sighed. “And how many shots have you had this morning, Tony?”

“This morning? None, actually. I’ve been taste-testing variations on your drip. I did _make_ a shot, I’m not exactly sure when. A quad shot, in fact. It’s probably cold by now.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He pushed open the door and walked through to the counter area, where he was unsurprised to find Tony amidst what looked like the innards of several complicated espresso machines. The drip brewer that Steve had arrived early to clean up was piping away in the corner, bright and shiny. There really was a bag of Folgers next to it. The coffee shop smelled heavenly.

Tony didn’t bother looking up. “Told you.”

Half reluctantly, Steve grabbed the coffee from the drone that was still following him and took a sip.

“Notes of Sunday brunch at Grandma’s, with undertones of 1940s greasy spoon diners,” said Tony.

It was, in fact, the best cup of coffee Steve had ever tasted. Unwilling to admit as much, he scanned what little counter space wasn’t taken up with metal parts, and spotted the quad shot not far from him. He picked up the cup. It was stone cold.

“Should I toss this?”

“No!” Tony was up, instantly, and grabbed the cup out of Steve’s hand. “I am not throwing away my shot.”

“Suit yourself,” said Steve. He rolled the sleeves of his white t-shirt over his biceps, just so, and prepared to wage war on Tesseract.

After he drank his Folgers.

***

Bruce was starting to have high hopes for the Taste of the Town festival, and that wasn’t just because the smashed storefront window definitely wasn’t his fault. He had also forgotten that hanging out with Tony Stark could be...fun. The festival wasn’t starting for three more hours. That gave them plenty of time to collaborate on a brand new espresso beverage, courtesy of the machine Tony had cobbled together in the wee hours of the morn.

The problem was, Tony had used all the remaining, non-stolen espresso machines to make the new one.

“So we’re technically down two machines,” said Steve, determined to spell everything out. “One was stolen, and the two remaining ones are now...this.”

“Captain, I’m telling you, this one brews twice as fast. And just look at it!”

Bruce watched Steve’s brow wrinkle, ever so slightly, and admired how skilled he was at restraining his temper. He knew how uncomfortable Steve got any time one of his peers mentioned his promotion to assistant (to the) manager which, obviously, was why Tony did it relentlessly.

“It probably will draw in customers,” admitted Natasha, who had mastered the extraordinarily complicated apparatus within two minutes.

“Does it make the coffee taste better?” asked Steve. “Bruce? Want to weigh in?”

Natasha held out the latte she’d just made. Bruce shook his head.

“It’s better if I don’t have caffeine.”

But he did consent to taste what had come out of the “regular coffee” pot that Steve had been championing.

“Oh, god, that’s awful,” he muttered. He immediately poured the rest of it down the sink and crushed the paper mug in his hand.

“It’s _Folgers_ ,” said Steve. He sounded vaguely hurt.

“Hey.” That was Natasha, softly, in his ear. “Remember that episode of _Breaking Bad_?”

He didn’t, so she pulled out her phone and showed him a clip. Gale Boetticher’s laboratory. A tiny bit of adrenaline surged through Bruce’s veins.

“Can you do that?”

“My espresso machine does it already!”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Tony.”

In fact, the _Breaking Bad_ “better living through chemistry” coffee setup was _not _set up for optimal brewing. It did look cool, though.__

__“I’ve got Erlenmeyer flasks and stuff in my car.”_ _

__Natasha inclined her head ever so slightly at Bucky. Her hair was pulled back in a standard food service bun now, so he had to imagine it cascading. It was okay for him to imagine that, right? He hoped it was. Bruce wasn’t sure whether Bucky ever imagined Natasha’s hair cascading. Bucky was...kind of hard to read. But his prosthetic arm was surprisingly strong, which made him the kind of guy you wanted around, when you needed to carry a lot of boxes and couldn’t find Thor._ _

__As Bruce got to work setting up his tubes, he heard a “Heads up!” and looked up just in time to see Steve distributing coffee cake, frisbee-style. On the real plates, no less. Natasha, Tony, and even Bucky caught theirs easily, but Bruce took a half-second too long to react, and the cake took out half a counter of delicate glass equipment._ _

__“Where is Thor, anyway?” asked Steve. But if their shift captain didn’t know, no one else was likely to._ _

__***_ _

__Thor was, in fact, spying on Tesseract Roasters. He was fairly sure his brother had spotted him already, but as Loki was testily explaining the menu to a customer, Thor was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get called out. He perused the highly minimalist pastry case (strawberry rhubarb kale polenta tarts, which was not a combination of words Thor understood) while Loki let out the most pointed sigh Thor had ever heard._ _

“This isn’t a difficult concept to grasp. Our menu has exactly three items. You have your choice of single-origin fair trade locally roasted beans, which I will personally measure and grind by hand at the moment of ordering. I will then carefully pour exactly six ounces of distilled spring water at precisely 197 degrees Fahrenheit, first wetting the beans, then moving to the dissolution phase—”

The customer’s brow furrowed. “So you don’t have, like, a Frappuccino?”

“OUT,” roared Loki, pointing at the door. The corners of his mouth quivered. He had not yet succeeded in growing a mustache.

Thor looked up from the pastry case. “Now, now. That’s no way to treat a paying customer.” 

__“I would rather lose a sale than my self-respect.”_ _

__“Suit yourself,” said Thor. He craned his head a bit, trying to search the back of the shop. Barton was back there, doing whatever it was that he did with a glazed look in his eyes, but the stolen espresso machine was nowhere to be seen. Which made sense, he supposed, if Loki had changed the menu to nothing but pour-overs._ _

__“I will. I was. I was suiting myself before it was cool.”_ _

__Halfway through the door, Thor paused. “You know, brother, flannel doesn’t really suit you.” The skinny jeans did, but he wasn’t going to give Loki that satisfaction._ _

__“OUT!” Loki roared again._ _

__When he returned to Shield, he found several customers outside the front door, trying to open the knob, which had jammed. This did not seem to be completely detrimental to business, as people were climbing through the broken storefront window instead._ _

__“Thor!” called Steve. “Can you fix that?”_ _

__He thought he could, so he climbed through the window himself, grabbed a large hammer from the back room, and swung it. There was a comforting THWACK, and then some even more comforting splintering noises, as the door flew off its hinges._ _

__“Well,” said Steve diplomatically, “that’s one way to do it.”_ _

__***_ _

__Natasha and Bucky coincidentally took their lunch breaks at the same time. Totally coincidentally. It was absolutely a coincidence that he had followed her out here._ _

__“Are you going to the dance next week?”_ _

__Bucky continued to lean against the wall._ _

__“That’s cool,” she said._ _

__***_ _

__Peggy applied one final coat of lipstick, then blotted expertly, before she got out of the car. She already knew which coffee shop would earn her vote, of course, but she felt obligated to swing by the premises anyhow._ _

__Carefully—she had to be careful, because of the glass—she picked her way over the threshold. Phil saw her and waved._ _

__“The usual?” he called, and she nodded. He began filling a paper cup from a convoluted chemistry lab apparatus that had definitely not been there the last time she’d visited Steve at work._ _

__“What’s with the…” she started, not really sure if she intended to ask about the broken front window, the broken front door, the shards of glass that were lining the floor, or the chemistry lab thing._ _

__Before she could decide where to begin, though, something behind the counter exploded. She instinctively ducked and covered. Several customers screamed._ _

__“Whoops!” said Tony Stark’s voice, through a cloud of dust and coffee grounds. “Nothing to worry about, folks. Everything’s fine. That was just a minor technical mishap.”_ _

__From behind Peggy came a slight chuckle._ _

__“So this is what you’ve all been up to?” sneered Loki._ _

__Phil, who had also hit the deck, now gamely dragged himself to his feet. “You’ll never win Taste of the Town, Loki.”_ _

__“Oh, won’t I? I mean. Not that I care. Popularity contests are meaningless.”_ _

__“Never—”_ _

__It was Peggy who noticed that Phil was literally steaming, deduced that whatever had exploded had been full of scalding coffee, and took him to the hospital to have his second-degree burns treated._ _

__***_ _

__“You’re taking Peggy to the dance, right? I’m taking Pepper. Have I mentioned I’m taking Pepper? She’s amazing. Did you guys know she’s amazing?”_ _

__Steve nodded. “Yes, I’m taking Peggy.”_ _

__Tony turned to Bucky. “Who are _you_ taking?”_ _

__Bucky shrugged._ _

__“Natasha’s free so far, I think.” It wasn’t his most subtle hint, but Bucky didn’t typically take subtle hints._ _

__“That surprises me,” said Steve._ _

__It did not surprise Tony. Natasha was undoubtedly objectively hot (if not as hot as Pepper), but most guys he knew found her kind of intimidating._ _

__***_ _

__At some point, hanging out with Tony inevitably went from fun to tedious. Clearly, that point had been reached, because both Bruce and Steve were now cleaning tables, despite the fact that there were only eight tables in the place and none were occupied or dirty._ _

__“I’m a little concerned at how few customers we’ve had today,” said Steve now, as he polished a tub of sugar packets. They had been visible all day, milling around outside, but hardly anyone had come in._ _

__“Maybe it’s the door.”_ _

__“Maybe.”_ _

__From behind the register, Maria called, “Steve? Don’t panic, but there’s a really giant wasp on the wall above your head.”_ _

__Steve whirled around, which caused the wasp to take off._ _

__“That _is_ a really giant wasp. Maria, where’s the flyswatter?”_ _

__“We have a flyswatter?” She began looking for it nevertheless. “Where would it be?”_ _

__“It’s supposed to be right behind the counter…oh, right.” Steve tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “The part of the counter that isn’t there anymore.”_ _

__“I’ll try looking through this wood,” said Maria._ _

__The wasp flew directly at Bruce. Instinctively, he grabbed the nearest thing to him, and smashed it into the wall. Unfortunately, he realized a moment too late that the thing nearest to him was a chair._ _

__For a moment, no one spoke._ _

__“Well,” said Steve, as Bruce stood lamely holding a now-disembodied chair leg, and frankly feeling a bit silly about it, “I think you got him.”_ _

__***_ _

__“We did _not_ win Favorite Local Coffee Shop,” said Mr. Fury. He had assembled them all again. “I did, however, eventually locate the stolen espresso machine. Mr. Barton returned it to me when he returned to my employ.” _ _

__Clint waved. He looked a bit sheepish, and Natasha resolved to Snapchat him later._ _

__“Wait, does that mean you stole it in the first place? Were you, like, hypnotized?” started Tony, but Mr. Fury raised a hand to silence him._ _

__“I’m having the persons responsible prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”_ _

__“Good,” muttered Thor. “My brother is an embarrassment.”_ _

__“Also, and I cannot ask this strongly enough,” said Mr. Fury, “what the hell happened here?”_ _

__Natasha looked around. The Shield Coffee Company looked totally normal to her, aside from the broken front window, missing front door, floor covered in shattered glass, moderate crater in the counter, absence of Phil, the broken chair, the dented drywall, and that stupid drone of Tony’s circling around everyone’s heads. She shrugged._ _

__“You left us in charge.”_ _


End file.
